Tag Archives: Vivek Bhasin

Good Reading: Bonnie BHASIN

“ Dad” Mahinder Nanda Esq; Global CEO of the Male Shaver’s PLATINUM Guild & SUDOKU Wizard..

As a young boy at BCS there lived amongst us thinnies’n skinnies a couple of hairy rascal gorillas in both the Rivaz & Lefroy Dorms… one I distinctly remember was a chap, short stocky compact with a loaded bristles-forever-face. The dude was sixteen but looked like yes, a mature gorilla with hairy arms that sort of nearly touched his ankles. If his hair wasn’t dark and jet black I could have sworn he was a Gorillorangutan, yes you too may have guessed, his parents “could” have been Gorilla and Orangutan one of each and “could” have met in the tropical jungles when hot-humid-pissing-down-in the rain forests, both seeking shelter from buckets of rain holding huge wild ferns over their heads, sitting next to each other staring ahead into the dark green sweltering heat with dragon flies a plenty…but as instincts call they both turned towards one another and Sweet Hallelujah it was LAFS; simplifying it-it was Love At First Sight, quite a scandal amongst the Gorilla and Orangutan tribes, but who gave a toss of banana scandals… and so the priest , another rascal of a Chimpanzee calling himself “ The Most Reverend ChiChoBonaparte” wed the 💏 couple in love ( thankfully the Orang was a Lady of the Highest Order and the Gorr a Gentleman who was a graduate from the esteemed HSBC, the Harvard School of Baboons & Connivers ( not the bloody bank).

Recollect readers the hairy Cottonian’s parents only-possibly, “could“ have been the two Apes…no?

The chap was a Rivazian and I looked at his face in awe; he was in Fifth Form and I in Upper One, so we were around ten years apart along with the fact his face, a layer of thick blue-green of bristles; we guys were silky smooth something like Cadbury’s chocolate.

Having the courage to ask him one day about his bristles and how they came about etcetra … he appeared smooth as silk too.. baffled! but still I ventured to ask nervously and he…“ I shave twice a day “ .. “Lola” replied with a confident smirk ‘n swagger and just jazzed off like a real star of the bristle brigade into the Tara Devi sunset ..yes Lola and another new fandangled word for him “Jhariaa” or thick bushes with bramble that butterflies-afraid-to perch on was his second nick name.

Many of us wondered what that word “ shave” was all about…

Of course I tried to ask many in Lefroy, even the surdies who boasted Rapunzel hair under their turbans; none had the foggiest about bristles’ n beards and how “Lola the Jhariaa” was ahead of the hairy curve.

Lola passed out from BCS and except for a scant one or two strands emanating from some other dude’s follicles I never encountered another Gollirorangutan passed my ten years in School.

Another year and two passed.. I was going to join the band of gypsies as The Merchant Marine called.. By now a few strands had emerged in my regale chin too and I was told by the Company Superintendent “ report on board with your packed kit bag; a shave every day with a decent hair cut”. ….

The first ablution! Shave! And still I was lost. My Father was away to Sandheads so Mum said she would book a trunk call to Bombay and I “ should speak to Mahinderji who will be able to explain slowly carefully and simply how you should shave 🪒 “
I remember trunk calls during the early 1970’s were a Big Deal; with water and sewage in the trunk line it was required to shout loud and hard as there were 2000 kms between Calcutta and Bombay..as it was important that your neighbours heard you, so impressed by the howls and screams after all this was a Trunk Call not a telegram..

The trunk call was all I needed..

to understand the beard to be weeded

Mahenderji, a real shaving ace

Asked me to feel the contours of my face

Mine was smooth rough low high beard

Don’t fret it will feel initially weird

Now wash your face with hot water

A nice badger brush to build up lather

those days the cream he used was Old Spice

Impressed me do not roll the dice

stick to that cream good advise from the wise

Now a safety razor with seven’o’clock

that I applied, nicked and in shock

Follow the lines of your chiseled face

Long confident strokes you will make

Like the smooth Kalka Simla train

Beware never ever against the grain…

and so my story goes, it was Thanks to Dad Mahenderji I learnt the art of shaving. He was a little skeptic on showing me tricks on designing my moustache since he had a gallant sophisticated bigote and I wasn’t allowed to sport one.
Whenever my ship docked after transatlantic voyages at Bombay, I bounded across to Silver Oaks to meet the Global CEO of The Male Shaver’s PLATINUM guild who studied the fine contours of my face; we heaped praises and plati-accolades on each other’s fine performances most he-to-me in his humble way; I always took copious notes but I knew then I still hadn’t achieved the ski lines or the glowing freshness of DAD’s and had much to learn, to complete many badger-creme-razor voyages before I could shave on a dark night with only lightning striking the palms above in a pouring rainforest…. as a Gorilla and Orangutan madly in love holding hands sat watching me…

.. till date the shaving lectures I received have being ingrained in my memory…….perhaps it was the deafening rock concerts I went to, the roll, pitch and pounding of my ship catching me off balance that I shaved my tuft against the grain too often and Alas! My Beard is amongst the damnedest sharpest roughest the world has ever seen or anyone has felt ( wink ! wink!)

But I remain ever grateful to “ DAD” who continued to impress the Yanks with his mathematical wizardry; fifty years ago whilst visiting Japan Dad met Emperor Shōwa Hirohito who asked him “besides Honda Toyota Kawasaki and Seiko what else could the Imperial Rising Sun give to the world”?

Dad whilst enjoying a plate of salmon sushi and saki smiled and bowing to His Royal Highness … whispering questioning “Royal Highness .SODOKU.?”

Confused HRH Shōwa with a high brow responded …”Please expand Nanda San ….”
… and Dad replied.smiling again …
“ Your Royal Highness…Suji wa dokushin ni kagiru “

And that’s when it all started …
First THE ART OF SHAVING &
Later SUDOKU WIZARDRY

🙏❤️🙏Dad!
Wizard of Many
Dragon Slayer of Sudoku …..from Easy to Evil.
Global CEO of The Male Shaver’s Platinum Guild

Bonnie ( Vivek )Bhasin
Lefroy 1961-1970
Still Shaving .. imperfectly
Still referring to copious notes..

(Also in memory of Lola the Jhariaa Sharma .. wherever your growth has taken you..Bro 🙏)

08 Aug 2021

BCS 162nd Founder’s Day 28th July 2021

Up in the greens of Simla
on a magnificent spur
S I T U A T E D
is an institution steeped in history..
As young boys we arrived
with some trepidation
some anxiousness and many not knowing then…
WHEN..
time is finally up
through the stone corridors
the dorms, the classroom, the Irwin Hall, Linlithgow, Remove, Main School, the Biology and Chem lab, the flats, the courts, the bakery, the war memorial, the art block, Chipu’s, the Lodge and The Chapel….
walking running singing howling acting sitting grubbing laughing smiling melancholic ..now at so many points on the planet ..
we yearn to be there
even for a brief moment.
Today I close my eyes
and arrive through the global positioning systems in my mind..
like a drone hovering above capturing the entire print of this beautiful place…
I can see ..
we all arrive
in mind body and spirit..
all in congregation
each drone different
each drone uniquely the same..
like mists rising after
today’s sweet summer rain
we inhale the bouquet of the earth , the pine laden wind…
looking down from the skies
we see the young Cottonians
looking up at the sky
pointing at us
smiling from the benches
they shout at us in glee..
our propellers create a whirlwind..
they hold on to their school caps
as their metal badge beat on their chest…
insisting we all land ..
but today ..
not today
we came above
in the sky
to pay obeisance
to our great institution..
on our one hundred and sixty second Founder’s Day
we know …
Bishop Cotton School,
Our School … will be there for us..
F O R E V E R 🙏

Vivek ( Bonnie) Bhasin
28 July 2021
on the 162nd year of my Alma mater.

In continuation….

Sunday..
The quiet day..
I rise with the sun
and hear a multitude of birds..
Is it the dream I had last night
or the arrow that flew as Rush rushed past singing “The Garden..”
I had butterflies in my gut..
weakness in my knees
my body spoke
but did I listen? Ever did?
“ Pack your bags Gypsy-you Gitano-you Ziginare* “ they whispered.. “it’s time to leave, to depart again yet again and now again…”
They smiled at me as I floated down…
Walked with me on the charted path..
through the corridors I trudged my shoes hitting the shining stones where we and you’ve walked..
They opened the doors..
I silently stepped in
so many memories..
and songs of praise echoing all around ..
every moment was precious,
every step was slow and measured..
I reached the Alter..
I stopped and looked and knelt..
staring up at
Our Good Shepherd..
And the voice..
“ The Navigator has come home..”
I closed my eyes as my thoughts swooshed from the mountains to the valleys and shot across the lands arriving at the oceans of the world, zipped over the continents looking down at all those faces who knew me more than I knew them… and in those priceless seconds I was back where I belonged.
It was time to leave, yet again…
I turned and bowed my head as they smiled and I knew..
walking along the passage besides our Chapel to
The Lawrence Gate.. with a heavy heart..
I glanced up and saw Linlithgow and the stone steps leading down to the Irwin Hall, the Chapel and the Dining Hall.
Yes.. I see myself as that five year old coming down those steps in a queue, no sound no whisper..
I stopped and call for you..
Can you not hear me? Read my lips or at least acknowledge my presence..?
My presence is an old man who moved out of your five year old shell.. you look happy my five year old ..
and me your sixty five..
“ I and I we both are.. but I am not leaving this place; I am barely five .. but you must go back into the cacophony of sounds at this age your stage .. for me your young one, I will wait for your return eagerly…”
The steps remain
The corridors remain
everything else is frozen in a time zone .. except myself ..I continue to grow and age..
Whilst my other I, stays…
don’t we both still have the same name ..?”
“Yes yes I plead- no never change even if the clock ticks away, I will hold back time…
And I will but return to meet you .. perhaps then..
you will leave
and
I will stay..”🙏❤️

My School
Living in its own time ..
Vivek Bonnie BHASIN
Lefroy 1961-1970
*gitano-ziginare : Gypsies
Easter Sunday 04 April 2021


– Vivek Bhasin

Vivek [Bonnie] Bhasin visits BCS

We were very happy to welcome back Old Cottonian, Captain Vivek (Bonnie) Bhasin who visited BCS to pass on some of his style and Sharper Edge tips to the X & XII classes and staff. He put on a very entertaining show in the Irwin Hall which we’re sure will help Cottonians in the big wide world. Thanks Bonnie.

2020 Christmas Letter / Vivek Bhasin

I managed to climb on top of the highest mountain..
the last married pair of swans
one-white one-black
come swinging in from the north; just swooshing past me
I bloody well jump…
just managed
to land on the black
this graceful elegance..
in flight heading south.
I held on to my pants more than his long neck..
and..
Lo and behold I slipped away like a  well untrained skydiver knowing pretty damn well
I was going to fall
with arms flaying
clutching nothingness
my legs dangling
my eyes popping
my hair dishevelled a mess.

….myriad scenes flashed
some laughter
a few solid drives
immaculate chips
a fine line putt
longing desperation
deep blue lakes
sitting on the beach chair
under the rush of fir trees
drinking caffe
med cinnamon rolls…
yet my mind zig-zagged
never stopped..
I talking to my self
forced to anchor
engines on turning gear
this year.

In case June was the moon
yet not t’was too soon
come August this must be now
yet my bag stayed zipped
forlorn vacant with slow desire
September Simla not just yet
November cold dark yet fresh
inhale moss breath
kantarell yellow still sprout
surprise surprise yet annoying wild to the bone smug too
one slow car meanders..
slim long legged lass
on a two wheeler
following the footsteps of Cézanne
disembarked
her cloth clutch
followed her following to the
Sunday market Provence
Lavender sabon
Butter croissants..

Just leave your dreams…
Yes I just left…

…Gasping for breath
inhale exhale I find my fall
turned to glide
I soar high’n higher
settled stable
increased speed I catch
the jet stream on my tail
a smooth ride..
adjusting my arms
straightening my legs
my hair now slicked
my Sunday suit and I
and stolen polish black shoes..

..and then slow descend
graceful swan am I?

I perch at the Main Gate
The Mitre, The Crest and all else is there..
I now remember
dark nights bright lights
our month
First December…
the sun nearly set
at Tara Devi’s height
The Good Shepherd gently fades into the night.

I’ll just hunker down inside the bare opening
of that great chestnut tree
and think back
on this year that’s been.
No no .. no sarcasm..
no tantrums ..
no frustration..
but squeezed juices of patience.

Sometimes even nothing
makes sense
is relaxing for the brain until
we shall .. hence.

Christmas is confusing
family togetherness
going home
coming to you
logs and chimneys
Mulled Vino with almonds raisins
table fares are individualistic
Candles and Stars
will Santa Claus arrive
will the Three Kings divide?
Is it just this time
we will stay away
just today even tomorrow
like lambs bleating astray?

Yet I still stretch my limbs
and stand tall…
soon December’s fall
will end it all..
will we stay confused
like that lady who nearly socked me, keep distance she screams ..
nor dare otherwise
others many
like the owl wise
and deep ravines
a sudden hidden troll
the new way
under branches fall?

I will sit cuddled in that nook of the tree and kill my thoughts
speak what sits on my lips…
this year’s camera of my eyes
recording slow motion..

Let the quietude
comfort you
Let us take our time
I tell you what
I pray to end upheaval corruption cloak and dagger selfishness
greedy land grabbers..
less jumble in the brain..
and pray the deep green forest approaching the Main Gate
always remains.

A Peaceful Christmas..
strain your ears to pick up orchestral melodies of the next year.. it better be better than 2020’s propellor wash ..
🙏❤️🙏

Vivek ( Bonnie ) Bhasin
Christmas 2020
Wishing Swans
those graceful wings
and
The Wide Winged Albatross
that cast her shadow over me
as I sailed through
The Straits of Magellan;
…my canopy.

Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,

Bonnie/Vivek Bhasin